While Her Lips Are Still Red
by strawberrymacchiato
Summary: Summary: You love her. You love her like that big bang that exploded up high in the cosmos and made all the stars in the universe start to burn. You're just waiting for the right time to tell her. And you will, because you've sworn it to yourself every time you lay your head to rest at night, dreaming of her. Faberry. One-shot.


**At her door**

_Kiss her._

"I can't."

You sigh. The daily battle with your conscience has already begun.

"She's in love with someone else."

_No she's not. _

Sometimes the voice in your head can be so unreasonable. You don't even know where some of its ideas come from. Then again, you don't know how your feet brought you right outside her door again either.

"She loves _him._"

_Coward. You're just too afraid of what might happen if she turns down your courtship._

"That's not true. I...I'm just waiting for the right time."

_There never will be a 'right' time. Kiss her now, before it's too late._

"I...I-"

"Quinn! What are you doing here?"

The door opens abruptly, and Lady Rachel is there, staring at you with those wide, questioning eyes. She's calling you by your Christian name again when she's supposed to be using the proper title for a knight, but you're too stunned to correct her. Too taken aback by the sudden onslaught of her regarding you quietly like this to even think properly. It's one of those rare moments where you're both sharing the same air, but never thinking the same thoughts. You should have known better than to come here. You should never have listened to that misguided fool that lives inside your head, and yet, you're standing just outside of her chambers for what must be the hundredth time, mentally rehearsing how you'll confess your feelings for her. But knowing you, you'll probably never find the courage to do it. Instead, you fall back into your familiar stutter.

"Uh...Y-Your Ladyship...please _excuse_ my intrusion I was just stopping by to...to check on you."

You've blown it. You swear on your parents' grave that she can see right through you right now, and you'll finally be asked to resign from your position as her personal guardian due to inappropriate conduct. Crossing that boundary had already cost a dozen of her former protectors their positions in the royal ranks, so as a woman, the King's royal adviser saw it fit to appoint you to the role, completely unaware of the feelings you had been harbouring for many years now. This is why when she looks at you like that, pausing for a moment, you're about to apologise for deceiving her all this time, and pray that she'll understand.

But her eyes glisten mischievously, and she leans in a bit.

"To check on me?"

It seems that God has granted you another chance. You don't in the heavens know why, because you can already feel yourself blushing. She's always had that effect on you. Anyone with half a brain would have noticed that by now, but somehow this thing has gone on undetected. As inconspicuous as a single leaf in the forest.

''Yes.'' You say after a long pause, turning your head away. ''I just came to check on you.''

There's a sigh, but soon you feel a hand on your shoulder, and your head automatically swivels upward.

"Honestly Quinn, you come to 'check' on me almost every day. Surely there's something _else _you came here for?"

The hope in her voice frightens you. She's smiling, almost bashfully. You forget yourself and let your eyes trail down to her lips.

"Quinn?"

Instantly you shake your head, mortified at your lapse in concentration.

"I'm sorry, I must go."

You turn suddenly, letting the inevitable sadness seep into your heart, and hear her slowly shut the door to leave you alone once again.

In your journal that night, you reflect on the missed opportunity, and you write:

_Chances are like butterflies, flitting about in their evanescent glory._

* * *

**Under the cherry blossom tree**

Clusters of pink and white decorate the grass. The wind tugs playfully at the folds of your dress, but you're stunned against the tree trunk, watching her.

She twirls gracefully in her ignorant bliss. That smile could melt the heart of a thousand men, an entire army, and simultaneously, break the heart of a single knight who swore to protect her at all costs.

A knight like you.

Sometimes you wish these feelings would just disappear. You wish that every time she came crying to you for help, you could just hold her for a little bit longer, so you could draw her lips closer, and feel their warmth. But at that very moment, you awaken from your drunken stupor and reality unkindly kicks in.

_You can't have her._

"I know."

_And yet you still keep hoping?_

Instead of answering the voice in your head, you gaze at her letting herself fall into the daffodils. Her hair is littered with petals now, and her hair has quickly become wild and unruly-very un-lady like indeed. She catches you watching and smiles mischievously.

"Come and lie down with me?"

You roll your eyes but do as she says. You're there to protect her.

Your heart skips a beat when she takes your hand in hers.

"Do you think I'm beautiful?"

It's so abrupt that you have no time to conjure up a proper response. This wasn't part of the plan.

"Lord Hudson said it to me not a day ago, but his words did not make me flutter."

"Flutter?"

You blurt it out stupidly.

"Yes," She says, absently playing with your fingers, "I want my heart to flutter with happiness when he tells me, but it does not. Is there...something wrong with me? Am I not beautiful?"

Frowning, you turn to your side, ignoring the tingling in your belly, and meet her eyes directly. They're deep and intoxicating, but she has no idea that she affects you this way. You swallow to keep your composure.

"There's absolutely nothing wrong with you, your Ladyship."

You watch her carefully. She's gazing back at you in what looks like awe or admiration.

"And," You continue, unconsciously raising your hand to gently cup her cheek, "I think you're the most beautiful lady in the world."

The next second you freeze. Your hand jerks away from her face as you realise what you've done. Your error. Pain settles in your heart as you dislodge the grip she has on your other hand, and you lie on your back, ramrod straight, stiff with apprehension, and too caught up in the moment to realise that when she whispers a quiet "thank you", there is a tremble in her voice.

In your journal entry later on, you sigh with a feeling of being incomplete, and you write:

_Her cheeks are softer than the petals that fall from the tree, but they are not mine to touch._

* * *

**Near the fireplace**

The other knights are slowly clearing out from the dining hall, exhausted from a night of merry festivities. Out of the corner of your eye, you spot him, Lord Hudson, remaining in the general vicinity of the object of your affection. Your stomach churns unpleasantly.

He caresses her face in a drunken stupor, his body swaying to and fro, and she politely removes his hand, a strained smile on her face. For just a second, you think her eyes flit over to yours, silently asking you to intervene. Surely, it is just your imagination. A wicked trick of the night designed to make you plummet further into your own personal pit of misery.

But when Lady Rachel's eyes face your direction a second time, and his giant hands slither down to her waist, you need no further prompting.

"Lord Hudson," You cut in solemnly, and step towards the two in an attempt to separate them, "This can hardly be called appropriate behaviour in the presence of our Lady. Why don't you retire to your quarters?"

His gaze lands on you and for a moment, he seems angry at your tactless interruption. But you meet his threat head on, not budging.

Within seconds he's smiling again, nodding lazily and backing away from her.

"Tish true, Quinn! I besht not be-hic! loozhing myshelf! Aplologiezh, m'lady."

He bows reverently, and Lady Rachel curtsies in kind, eyes trailing him as he exits the hall. As soon as he's cleared the doorway, she rushes towards it and closes the door, breathing out a sigh of relief.

"Thank goodness, Quinn. I was afraid you weren't going to say anything."

Your body stills.

You slowly come to the realisation that you're alone with her again, with only the occasional crackling of the fire to fill in the silence. You're in dangerous territory now, compounded by the fact that Lady Rachel turns to face you with her bottom lip caught by her teeth, and begins approaching you.

"Did you know?" She says, a nervous edge creeping into her voice, "That when cherry blossoms bloom, they only last for a few weeks before their petals flutter to the ground..."

She comes to a silent halt, and you thank the stars she's not looking at you right now, because the tension in your limbs is becoming unbearable.

"But, it's when they flutter that they're most beautiful."

She finishes, and her words slice through you as her eyes claim you, body and soul.

She's standing right in front of you. She's so close that, you could breathe in the scent radiating off her skin if you leaned forward just a fraction, and so close that you can see the dark pools of desire rippling in her eyes, focused squarely on you. It thrills you in all the wrong ways, because you shouldn't be doing this, shouldn't be taking her hand in yours and slowly raising it up to your chin, shouldn't be pressing your lips against her fingers and delighting in the way her breath catches in surprise, and certainly shouldn't be wishing that this moment would last forever.

So you dislodge your fingers from hers and cast your head down, pushing away at the regret that you know will come back to haunt you, and you say:

"No, m'lady. I didn't know that."

And as you leave her standing by the crackling fireplace, you can't help but feel like you've broken something precious.

_Invisible flames burn inside your heart, but you strangle them with your watering can._

* * *

**Against the city gate**

It's dawn, but you push yourself up to stand because today is the day. You've decided.

Today is the day you're going to tell her.

A sense of frenzied excitement mixed with irrepressible fear totally overcomes you, but you go forth, quickly descending the staircases and briefly nodding at the castle workers you pass. It's all a blur. All you can think of is her face, smiling as you finally unveil your true feelings for her, and explain that you never meant to push her away the way you did-you just didn't want to lose her.

Before you know it, you've arrived at the castle gate, and your sense of exhilaration becomes tenfold.

But it's quickly trampled upon when you see Lord Hudson there, leaning against the stone wall with a sullen expression on his face.

"Morning Quinn."

Something's not right. You can feel it in the way he says your name. It almost sounds like he's reprimanding you. But you choose to ignore the disconcerting feeling that keeps trying to steal your moment of happiness.

"Morning. I was wondering if-"

"She's gone."

He says unceremoniously, and looks you up and down disapprovingly. That's when it clicks.

Lady Rachel was due to be present at a meeting with the neighbouring kingdom to offer a peace treaty today. Things had quietened down somewhat lately, but the dissension amongst the townspeople was mounting, and talks of war were becoming more frequent by the day. The word was that arguments broke out on the streets, and people would stage riots outside the palace protesting their king's lack of concern for his impoverished citizens. They were demanding a share of the resources of this kingdom or else they would come and take them by force. And Rachel, poor Rachel had been sent as an ambassador despite all the unrest. It was common knowledge that when things got this out of hand the royals themselves would take control of diplomatic affairs, and you know very well how that often ended.

You feel your body slump, feel the weight of guilt settle in your heart erasing all hope, and you can't move.

"Left you this."

Lord Hudson says as he extends his arm, offering a small, opened scroll in the palm of his hand.

You look up at him properly. He's been crying, that much is obvious to you now from the red colouring around his eyes. And you find out exactly why as you unravel the scroll he's given you, tracing your finger over each word like it's something sacred:

_Dearest Quinn,_

_Love is a secret joy that only few persons have the opportunity to experience. I am glad I was one of them. Thank you...for making my heart flutter._

_Rachel_

That night in your journal, you shed tear after tear, and you think that expresses how you feel much better than any words ever could.

* * *

**By her side**

Her coffin is made of glass. The wind slowly creeps up your arms and quietly tries to soothe you.

You shouldn't be here. Shouldn't be entering the royal cemetery that is only meant for close friends and relatives but _never_ knights, shouldn't be draped over the glass casing like its a life buoy out at sea, and most certainly shouldn't be wishing that it was you inside there instead of her.

You don't understand why.

You just don't understand.

The wind wooshes around again, picking up a few stray leaves here and there. She lies perfectly still. She's so perfect. She always was.

You open the glass with trembling hands, and take a breath.

Her lips are cold. You taste them, and they taste like her.

_Rachel._

The girl you've loved since you laid eyes on her. The girl with cheeks as soft as forbidden cherry blossom petals and a beauty that could never be dreamed up by any human design.

A forlorn sky watches over your hunched figure. It's almost like it feels your pain. It knows your anguish. It knows you like a long lost friend, bracing you for impact when you fall and flutter down onto the ground in pieces. It knows you finally found the courage to tell her how you feel.

And it cries along with you when you silently scream out loud, digging your hands into the earth.

_She's gone._

Years go by, but you never forget that moment. It's etched onto your heart like a carving on a tree:

_Kiss her, while her lips are still red._


End file.
